The Colour of Drowning
by Kadunta
Summary: Reupload. A brief glimpse into the lives of three women after the seppuku. Rating a bit on the safe side due to the theme.


_The usual disclaimer. Ranma 1/2 and all the related intellectual property in this fic are Rumiko Takahashi's property and whoever the rights have been given/sold to. I'm not one of those people. I'm not and won't be making any money off of this._

* * *

Some people are like jelly. You nudge them with your spoon, they wobble, then return back to how they were.

You poke them. Fascinated like a child with how they resist the change, you nudge them harder and harder, until your spoon tears through them.

Then you eat.

A month ago, Ranma was one such person. All it took was two strokes to irrevocably change the lives of many.

* * *

The windows to the okonomiyaki restaurant were closed shut. Many potential customers walked past the door, wondering about the 'closed' sign hanging on the door, before continuing on their way to find another place to eat.

Inside, a young woman was kneeling on the floor. Before her lay two letters. One of rebirth, both of death.

Beside the letters were two small casks of water.

Naked as the day she was born Ukyo reached for the cask on her right. She pulled it closer to herself and let it settle. Or was it to settle her emotions?

For honor.

She raised the cask above her head. In a mockery of birth, she toppled the container, dousing herself in the cold water.

For honor. For telling his father about Nannichuan.

Careful not to make a noise, he set the cask down where it had been a minute ago.

He reached for the second cask. The first had been a decision. The second... submittal.

For Ranchan's memory. For telling his father about Chiisuiton.

In the corner of the room lay the new restaurant sign. "Ukyo's."

He raised his clenched fists to his cheeks and wiped out the tears that threatened to spill.

Men did not cry.

* * *

Time.

Shampoo knew better than anyone that time was relative.

In Nerima, months had passed yet nothing had changed. The Ghost Cat... the Reversal Jewel... the super strength noodle... everything happened, yet everything remained the same. But now, back in China...

In one month, Khu Lon had appeared to age a century. In one month, Shampoo had lost three thousand years of history.

The cat hadn't looked behind her when she left her former home. She couldn't, not with her great-grandmother watching at the village gate. Not with her small, broken shape beside her cane, slumped to two thirds of her height.

No, she would've needed all the strength she had left to survive, be it scavenging trash or hunting rats.

Resignation.

Once, she had been the future of the Amazon tribe. The most promising young warrior from her tribe in years. A shoo-in for the future matriarch's position.

Her young owner picked her up and placed in a tub with warm water. Scratching wouldn't have done any good, not with her trimmed claws.

The steam from the hot bath water had condensed onto the surface of the mirror. A winking face, drawn onto the glass surface by a child who'd seen only twelve summers, grinned down at her.

Legacy.

Three millennia of proud history, changed to one line in the records of a pet shop.

* * *

Many of Nodoka's friends and neighbours had stopped by and paid her their respects. It was not easy, maintaining the stoic calm on her face and masking her own feelings from them.

It was only what a proper Japanese housewife had to do.

She wouldn't remember the pitying looks on their faces long.

Only here, watching the sunrise alone by the Tokyo Bay, she let her emotions to surface. The red the sun coloured the small clouds in the sky only made her remember the colour her 'daughter's' hair had been.

Satisfied, her smile grew ever wider.

Everything for honor.

Everything.

* * *

_"Any and all water is the colour of drowning."_  
- E. M. Cioran ("All Gall Is Divided", translation by Richard Howard)

* * *

_**AN:** I thought, well, since my writing usually has less emotions than a chunk of concrete, why not try writing an emo shortfic of my own as an exercise in the other end of the spectrum? Too bad my seasonal depression has already given way and I couldn't make this any sadder. Don't expect to see me writing more of these in the near future._

_Thanks to yasuhei for telling me how to improve this, but he couldn't do miracles either. He also suggested turning the Ukyo section into a real fic of its own... we'll see._


End file.
